Mending The Hardest Of Hearts
by onelife01
Summary: She's leaving. When Hermione flies to America to escape from her loss, she will have to learn the greatest lesson of her life. Because everyone knows that it's better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.
1. Prologue: Sad With What I Have Lost

**Author's Note:** Here's my first ever published story coming alive before your eyes. Being an avid FF reader, it was about time for me to finally find the nerve to click the "publish" button. I would like to thank my fellow writer dustyroses, writer of "Deadly In Every Way", who supported me and beta'd me! A little encouragement always produces miracles! So hang on tight as we dive straight into the heart of the matter...

**Disclaimer:  
**The Harry Potter series written by J.K. Rowling and the Southern Vampires Mysteries written by Charlaine Harris belong to their fellow authors. I do not make profit from writing this story.

Mending The Hardest Of Hearts

* * *

_"According to Elisabeth Kubler-Ross, when we're dying or have suffered a catastrophic loss, we all move through five distinct stages of grief. We go into denial because the loss is so unthinkable we can't imagine it's true. We become angry with everyone, angry with survivors, angry with ourselves. Then we bargain. We beg. We plead. We offer everything we have, we offer our souls in exchange for just one more day. When the bargaining has failed and the anger is too hard to maintain, we fall into depression, despair, until finally we have to accept that we've done everything we can. We let go. We let go and move into acceptance."_

_- Meredith Grey, Grey's Anatomy, Season 6 episode 1_

* * *

Five years might have passed, but it only feels like yesterday since his death.

No matter if 1,826 days had gone by since that fateful Battle of Hogwarts on July 23rd, the war had turned on its head its community, for worse. The magical world I had grown to love was nowhere to be seen, neither along the reconstruction sites spread all over the country, nor within the hearts of its people who had lost so much to the price of coming on the other side victorious.

The War of the Living, as it had come to be known in newly published history books, facing the side of the light with Harry at its head to the dark forces of Lord Voldemort, had decimated both wizarding and muggle populations by thousands. Five years later, bodies were still crowding up English morgues, missing person profiles still made the daily news, no matter on whose side victory laid. Harry had truly lived up to his legacy, proving that love worked in far more exceptional ways than one would think. Harry, in the battle that had been his entire existence, remained the last one standing when the Dark Lord disintegrated before his very eyes to nothingness on Hogwarts grounds. Yet, no matter if he saved the wizarding world, its people had not made peace with their losses. From Fred, to Lupin, to Snape, the Order had lost plenty of its finest wizards for the greater good. Wounds were still fresh and the ghosts of their former presence clung tightly with each and every one of them.

Ron.

By far, the person I was missing most, amidst it all.

Funny, no matter how lazy he was, Ron was always brave. He hadn't died in vain; by shielding Harry for a split second during his battle with Voldemort, he had perished at the wand of his greatest enemy. Voldemort's last act of defiance on this Earth. A life for a life had never rung more true.

The first six months following his death had been utterly unbearable. Catatonic, I remember resting in his former bedroom for weeks at a time, taking turns staring at his walls plastered with flying players from the Chudley Cannons and at the pictures scattered all over of the two of us with Harry, dating from our very first school year to Dumbledore's funeral. I wasn't always alone, though, staying in his room. More often than not, Harry would join me and together, we would find a little comfort in reminiscing about Ron and his antics. Stories were shared during the darkest hours of the night, and when finally morning came, it would find us sprawled all over Ron's floor in our sleeping bags, still misty-eyed. We couldn't believe he was gone. I couldn't believe I had lost him forever. It didn't make any sense.

No matter how often I twirled his wand between my fingers, always expecting him to come bounding up the stairs looking for it, he never did.

The fact he never showed up to any of the places where we used to hang out on our off-time from school year, killed me. Looking over my shoulder became a tic which I didn't owe completely to our Horcruxes hunt, but partly to the possibility of seeing Ron walking up behind us. I thus avoided, for a long time, Honeydukes, Hogsmeade's candy store, since I kept imagining him popping up in every aisle I'd walk into. His delighted expression would then flash in my mind followed by his usual "'Mione, hurry up!". So instead of turning into a fountain in the middle of a busy afternoon, I resolved to avoid the place altogether.

These avoidances though quickly grew frustrating and thinking about all the things Ron would no longer be doing with any of us made me nothing but resentful. What right had I to enjoy a certain food or a particular drink when the one guy I had loved more than anything on this Earth, besides Harry, had left me to never come back again? Unconsciously, I ate less, restricting myself in the memory of Ron. Perhaps it was silly, but I certainly didn't think so back then. It seemed fair and my going on living after his death was an irreconcilable idea during such trying times. While restricting myself, on the one hand, I also indulged, on the other, on replaying like a broken record the final moments before his disappearance.

I should've done something to stop him from getting himself killed. Anything.

Scenarios twirled in my mind in the dead of night while "what ifs" became nightly companions. Harry said I was beating up myself for no reason on that issue, there was nothing I could have possibly done about it, but Harry had been wrong before too. Wracking my brain for alternatives appeared to me as the most logical thing to do and that is exactly what I was doing most of the time whenever my parents or the Weasleys caught me staring lost into space. But not even fistfuls of hair grabbed in sheer exasperation at the impossibility of it all could bring me back Ron. No matter how I wished things had turned out differently, hoping beyond reason for his return.

During these maddening evenings spent with my knees drawn up to my chest while twirling these ideas, I would sometimes, finally, let myself drown into the abyss of my grief. Plans were no longer devised where Ron's survival prevailed, I simply gave into the overwhelming sadness which consumed me. Relinquishing control to let my doubts and my self-loathing roam free, I would then dissolve into tears wondering why he had to be taken away, and why not me instead. Nothing made sense without his presence anymore.

Yet, God, or whomever was up there, never made any compromise. Never brought him back or rewrote history, for that matter. Harry was as powerless, and during such times, he would gather me in his arms, pat my head awkwardly, and murmur over and over that Ron's sacrifice hadn't been made in vain and had in itself saved us all. He had died like a true hero and, in his memory, we had to go on living. He would've wanted that from us. I only half believed what he was saying, thinking it was only sweet nothings, but with time, reason caught up with me.

I could cry at everything that I had lost, spend a lifetime doing so, but nothing, truly nothing, not even magical, could bring back the dead from the grave. According to Harry's words, the only thing that was then left to do was to honor his memory, by regaining the land of the living.

But how to make peace with his death and to carry on living was one thing that for the first time in my life I had no clear answer to.

How the heck could I accomplish this ?

Comments are always welcomed.


	2. Chapter 1: You Left Me In The Dark

**Author's Note:** Here's the second chapter, I've made some corrections since the last time I posted it. Hope you'll enjoy it.

**Disclaimer:  
**The Harry Potter series written by J.K. Rowling and the Southern Vampires Mysteries written by Charlaine Harris belong to their fellow authors. I do not make profit from writing this story.

* * *

_The stars, the moon, they have all been blown out_  
_You left me in the dark_  
_No dawn, no day, I'm always in this twilight_  
_In the shadow of your heart_  
_Florence + the Machine, "Cosmic Love"_

* * *

I'm leaving. I'm not giving up, per say, but I can't stand England anymore. Its gloomy atmosphere and its mourners have become too much to bear. Too much heartache and too much loss, leaving feeling as if this country didn't feel like home anymore. My entire childhood spent as a warrior more than as a little girl. I wonder if there really is anything left here that I can call my own, because the war ripped away from me this feeling of belonging. It cast a black veil on the English countryside that I used to love, turning everything bittersweet. Wherever I looked, I was overwhelmed by the gripping despair of all my losses that always made my heart skip a beat.

The Weasleys, with the death of Fred, had lost plenty of their shiny optimism. What was once revered as a family trait, namely their bold optimism, had become lackluster. They were all dealing with their grief in different ways, thus they were unpredictable at best, tearing apart and coming together as a family. I couldn't help but find it all a bit stifling at times. I wasn't, alone, a bucketload of smiles either, but subjecting myself to even more misery than I could bear had taken its toll.

I was literally suffocating during the Weasley's weekly Sunday diners, I couldn't handle another forlorn look cast in my direction from Mrs. Weasley or another round of veiled raptures at daily matters. It had been one too many. I could only fake enthusiasm for so long. Vacantly smiling and nodding were simple enough, but even I could recognize that the mask I'd been wearing ever since, well,_ his_ death, had started to tear at the edges. I had never been an overly superficial person; I had cared and deeply loved others my whole life. This adopted behaviour, thus always felt alien to me. Who had I become? Finding myself would perhaps bring back some much needed normalcy in my life. I could only hope for it.

It's not that I didn't appreciate the Weasley's support, I did. They were my second family after all. But no one could smother me back to happiness, no matter how good their intentions were. As for Harry, we had each others' back, but he had Ginny, and by extension the rest of the family with whom he had always felt right at home. He had someone whom he could call his own. The loss of Ron had left my relationship compass spinning aimlessly, searching for true North. Before starting school at Hogwarts, I had always been a lonely child, only discovering friendship in the last semester of my first year with Harry and Ron. Now with one of my best friends and love of my life gone, I felt bereft. A lonely island, once again. Yet, instead of pilling up my own sorrows upon Harry, since he had already suffered more than enough, or upon my still somewhat confused parents back from Australia, I tried as best as I could to manage it all by myself. But it was easier said than done when most days left me feeling like I was literally gasping for air rather than living. "Be glad to be still breathing," I kept telling myself.

Thankfully, the war had not cost me my sense of pragmatism. It might have hidden it somewhere in the dark recesses of my brain, stuck between "To Do List for the NEWTS" and "Reasons Why Flying is Not Vital" but it was still there. I only needed to let it come back to me in its own time, like the pot calling the kettle back. My no-nonsense attitude would thus always prevail, no matter what I had endured in its stead.

I knew, deep down, that I couldn't continue living like this. It wasn't even living, a zombie looked more alive than I did! I knew I couldn't go on mopping around in such a state, I owed it to Ron and to myself to pick up the fragments of my own dignity, scattered all over the floor.

Slowly, then, an idea crept in, at first it was merely a vague thought easily chased away by my roaring emotional torment, but this fleeting thought never truly disappeared. It would come back, haunting me, during the wee hours of the morning, until frazzled, I would acknowledge it. Then, it would shadow my every passing musings, making itself heard and crash in at the forefront of my thoughts. Whatever my mind was making up, I felt that an impending something was about to occur. Either good or bad. Who knows? I sure didn't.

One bright Monday morning, as I was drinking a cup of black tea while staring outside of the window at my parent's place, everything came sharply into focus in my mind. At long last, I came to grips with the fact that if ever I wanted to cope and move on, I needed to distance myself, both emotionally and physically. My sanity was begging for it. Moments spent with Harry and the Weasleys were some of my most cherished memories but if I ever wanted to do something with my life, I needed to let go of the past and of the sorrow.

The only way is forward, that's the only one I knew of.

By moving forward, I wouldn't be letting go of the importance of Ron in my life, I would simply carry with me his influence in my heart and in my mind wherever I'd decide to go.

Perhaps the best way to honor his memory, as thoughts twirled wildly in my mind, wasn't to pledge my undying love for him until I found myself six feet under. It was to do the exact opposite. Ron had always teased me about me being an unstoppable force; that no one could possibly be able to prevent me from doing something I'd set my mind upon. Whenever I decided to accomplish something, I did it, and did it to the best of my abilities, no less. My determination and my focus were essentially what kept me afloat, and no matter upon whom or what they were directed, be it Harry's survival, school work, or elvish welfare. Maybe the answer had been hiding there all along. By tapping into that vast pool of thirst for knowledge and experience, I could find my old self again, the Hermione Granger I felt proud being.

Here, in England, I was merely surviving on a short supply of happy memories, constantly overshadowed by dreadful reminders of loss, regrets and heartache. Maybe I needed to leave then, to start fresh somewhere else, mend my wounds and tend to my broken heart. Starting off anew somewhere, anywhere, was maybe the long lost answer to my peace of mind. Call it selfish, I called it survival.

While carefully sipping on my second cup of tea, I allowed my mind to roam free as words flashed in quick succession in my mind's eye, settling my resolve thereafter.

_Research... Project... Books... Writing._

_Uncover... Discover._

_Justice... Equality... Rights... Coming Out._

_Coffin... America... AVL._

_American Vampire League._

_Vampires..._

_Vampires!_

Looking into vampires, now this would be a project to defy all Ministry approved research projects.

Everyone knew that they came out of the "coffin" so to speak, in the past year, but with England in turmoil with the threat of Voldemort looming over, answers needed to be given to the general public. Questions hadn't been properly answered by the British media from what I could gather. Until now. Maybe it was high time to do so. And hadn't I always been fascinated by anything remotely mythical? Hadn't I pledged to represent and to protect the elvish welfare, resident of Hogwarts or not? Everyone deserved to receive the same treatment and vampires were not that different from any of us.

Bloodsuckers they may be, but they still roamed the Earth, attended public rallies, applied for job certificates and contributed to raise their countries' GDP like every one of us. Thanks to the Japanese with their recently created synthetic blood, they had finally come clean, and started broadcasting their existence. That was a feat wizards had never even considered to make! We were centuries behind when our own Ministry had an entire department devoted to remove from muggles any memories of magical sightings.

Their forwardness was quite admirable.

Even I, taking in consideration the past hectic months, had watched thes news reports with Nan Flanagan, the leading representative of the AVL, on further advancing the vampire cause. But until today, I'd been blind to how much I cared about this issue. Such a public proclamation of their existence and following highly publicized debates was practically unheard of in the supernatural community. Magical folks, in that respect, were thus, in my opinion, far behind in their level of acceptance and tolerance. Maybe it was because we didn't have the unmistakable allure of vampires, didn't combust during daylight or didn't suck blood for a living. Magic, in itself, worked in far more complicated ways than mere fangs. Plus, having two parallel worlds existing at once, closely connected but not fully melted into a single world, couldn't easily be explained to people without any magical abilities. And this was only but one of the many mysteries which wizards had kept secret.

Vampires had thus been one step ahead of us, by acknowledging that recognition in the human world could only but prove to be highly profitable for them, both socially and financially. From what I'd read in The Daily Prophet, they wanted their rights to be recognized and their voting to be counted under the sunlit sky in exchange for their peaceful "mainstreaming" in the human world. Marriages between a vampire and a human were still frowned upon, causing riots in many republican states, but in the state of New York, campaigns for "VILM: Vampire I'd Like To Marry" were apparently going strong, if the American headlines were any indication.

Thus began an intensive week long research on possible vampire hot spots. The state of Louisiana came out the more often. A state rich with vampires lore, especially near New Orleans where the Creole and Cajun cultures intermixed. I also learned during my investigation that American states were divided in the vampire world in kingdoms with a king or a queen at its head and different state areas were controlled by sheriffs. It sounded like a big patchwork of medieval and western traditions. It would be interesting to see how it all worked in reality, no doubt.

When I broke the news to my friends and family that I'd become deeply interested in this issue and wanted to go to America to research it more, I was met with concern for my safety by my friends while my family outright refused for me to leave the country. But it was Professor McGonagall, whom I was still in contact with, that provided me with the best advice. She wrote to me:

"Mrs. Granger, while I cannot force you anymore to abide by my recommendations as a school teacher, it would be wise to remember that leaving the country will not necessarily allow you to leave behind your grief and loss. Such feelings follow you wherever you decide to go. You must give yourself time to heal and to grow out of your pain, stronger and hopefully wiser. No amount of distance can make you truly forget the terrible memories that you are bearing, but sometimes distance opens up new doors and gives us a fresh perspective on our life. It is certainly a very dangerous venture you've decided to undertake, but no one knows better than yourself what you need most at the moment. If distance and the long pursuit of knowledge and justice revive you, then, perhaps, you should take all the support and safety measures that you can with you and dive in. May you find what you've been looking for across the pond, this is my only wish for you."

Thankfully, I received encouragement from Harry too, despite his initial surprise at my decision, he simply hoped I'd try and stay out of trouble. He didn't think he could make it quick enough by portkey or by plane to help me out, if necessary. He nevertheless made me vow that if I couldn't stay out of harm's way that I'd least ask for help before it went from bad to worse.

Harry even suggested to me that I pitched my research idea to a newspaper. I could maybe write a weekly column on my advances in the land of the undead. I thought it was a brilliant idea, and he was proved right when the Daily Prophet soon jumped on board by agreeing to give me a chance. Having on their front page a column written by one of the war heroes talking about such a fascinating topic would

certainly help boost their newspaper sales.

A week later my suitcases and my handbag enchanted with an undetectable extension charm, filled with vampire related literature and a shiny new laptop, were packed at my parent's house. I also paid a final visit to Ron's grave, telling him I was finally moving on, one step at a time.

In Heathrow's airport, before my flight to New Orleans, goodbyes were exchanged with my parents, Harry and the Weasley clan, filled with tears, warm hugs, and countless warnings. Six months was a long time away from home, but while awaiting my boarding of flight E-204, I couldn't help noticing how much at peace I truly felt. My excitation and curiosity was bubbling underneath the surface. I'd sorely missed feeling this way.

But I will always remember how I felt upon setting foot upon American soil. I had landed, I had finally escaped from England and everything it had become to stood for in my mind. I was on my way to mend my broken heart. In the pursuit of the truth, by devoting myself to a new cause, researching and discovering other mystical creatures besides my own. Losing myself in a new realm of discoveries, I prayed, would be enough to salvage the remnants of my broken heart.

But my melancholic musings were cut short upon setting foot outside under the warm summer air, I had to quickly fumble in my purse for my sunglasses if I had any wishes of finding my car rental. It would be a long drive from here to the little town of Bon Temps, the closest town to Shreveport and Monroe, a mecca for vampire activity. Stuck between Texas and Mississippi, the little town was cheap enough to allow me to rent a small apartment for the duration of my stay. I'd have to look around for a part-time job as soon as I was settled though since I couldn't live off the galleons I'd receive from the journal.

I'd lived in a tent for almost a year during the war, surely, living in a small Louisiana town on my own couldn't prove any weirder or harder.

* * *

**I am terribly sorry for the delay, but I assure you the second chapter is on its way. It should be posted before June 25th.  
Send me your comments, they're always better than cupcakes.**


	3. Chapter 2: Anybody There

**Author's Note**: At last, here's the new chapter. My muse is back, so I'll do my best to update much more regularly.

**Disclaimer**: The Harry Potter series written by J.K. Rowling and the Southern Vampires Mysteries written by Charlaine Harris belong to their respective authors. I do not make profit from writing this story.

* * *

_Well if I'm judged on the life I've been living_  
_And if Heaven is not so forgiving_  
_Well I don't care 'cos I won't know anybody there_  
_- The Script, Anybody There_

* * *

Driving towards Bon Temps in my rented little car with the windows open felt great. Liberating, even. Yes, I was far from home, all alone in America, but such a distance was a relief. I knew more than anyone else that I was past due for a change in scenery. The project that had brought me here would be a welcomed distraction. Adjusting to the Southern ways, a far cry from my English upbringing, would certainly be an interesting challenge. Such thoughts about the new world opening to me were swirling in my mind on my thirty minutes drive from the Louis Armstrong airport to the Merlotte's Bar and Grill where I'd meet Sam Merlotte. He owned not only the bar but also the only flats, or cottages as he said, you could rent in town for a decent price. Back home, I'd done some research and unless I wanted to live in a motel room, this had seemed like the best option.

After living months in a tent, I felt that splurging now on a little cottage rental was perfectly justified.

My first sighting of Bon Temps, after exiting highway 167 and turning right at Morrow Street, was not a terribly exciting one. I could count the number of shops I crossed along the way on two hands. The town was proving to be a far cry from the neat suburbia I'd live in my whole life. The billboards scattered along the main road, advertising the sale of vampire repellent items was also a major clue that I definitely wasn't in England anymore. We'd just got news of the Great Revelation, after all. I wondered how long it would take for our magical and muggle governments to follow in the footsteps of the AVL and push forward our own Vampire Rights Amendment. But if memory served correctly, the world would eventually follow America's lead. No matter how prepared the wizarding world was in welcoming such dangerous beings.

Coexisting knowingly with Muggles was one thing, but living alongside vampires and respecting each others' existence would certainly prove difficult to accept. The war had taught me many invaluable lesson, one being that people were prejudiced by nature unless thought differently. I hoped the climate of tolerance following the end of the second great wizarding war in Britain would prevail.

My musings were however soon interrupted when I finally reached Merlotte's, Bon Temps' only bar. It may have been only eleven on a Monday morning, but the parking was already filled. I found a spot besides a black pickup, rolled up my windows and crossed the parking lot towards the entrance.

The smell of greasy food and spices immediately assaulted my senses upon stepping foot in the door. The 80's style music playing didn't escape my notice and neither the curious stares I was starting to receive from everyone seated. I was a newcomer in this tiny town where everyone knew each other. Suspicious glances were therefore required. I ignored their looks as best as I could and reached the bar counter to ask the girl pouring pints of beer for help.

"Hello, I'm looking for Sam Merlotte."

The girl walked closer, looking somewhat confused and asked me, "Sam, you said?"

I nodded and she walked up to the edge of the counter and hollered into the hallway leading to the kitchen, "Sam, get back here! Someone for you!"

I didn't have to wait for long, a shaggy brown haired man in a grey t-shirt and jeans soon opened a door at the end of the hallway and walked towards the bar.

"Tara, what did I say about yelling like that? Just come get me." Sam replied to the girl who'd helped me. She rolled her eyes. Sam then quickly scanned the bar stools before seeing me standing by. He walked towards me with a smile and we shook hands.

"Hi, you must be Hermione." He said, mangling my name like so many others before him. "Nice to meet you."

"Hello, yes I'm Hermione. I'm here for the flat #12."

"Good, follow me. I've got some papers for you to sign before I can give you the keys."

As I walked behind Sam to his office, I couldn't help noticing that people had been not only openly staring, but listening too. Yes, I had an English accent. I wasn't from around here. This would be enough information to satisfy their curiosity. For now. People loved to gossip, especially in tight-knit communities, and I was fresh meat.

The meeting with Sam didn't last long, he had me sign a couple of documents for my six months rental and that was it. Friendly, but not to the point of pestering me with questions, I told him that I was doing a journalism apprenticeship and left it at that. It was close enough to the truth. I would be indeed investigating and writing for a journal. Researching what exactly, I felt better left unsaid.

"Well, I think everything is in order. Let me just go warn the waitresses that I'm leaving and then I'll show you to your place."

After Sam finished his business, I followed his truck to my new home. My first flat. I'd spent my whole life either living at home with my parents, staying at Hogwarts during the school year or holidaying at Ron's place, but I'd never truly lived on my own ever before. I was looking forward to it.

No snoring and no dirty clothes covering the floor. Everything would be in order.

Just the way I liked it.

From Merlotte, it took us less than ten minutes to reach Ellenwood Drive where we both parked in front of a small cluster of white, wooden cottages. It was nothing fancy, just a kitchen, a bathroom and a bedroom masquerading as a living room. Sam informed me that something unfortunate had happened to the previous owner, which explained why I wouldn't have to buy extra furniture. He answered all my questions, handed me the keys and then left back for work. If there were any problems, I always knew where to find him.

After dragging my suitcase through the front door and unpacking my clothes and laptop, I made a list of everything I'd need to buy before tonight to turn this house into a home. Seeing as I didn't know the area, I guessed that the Super Save-a-Bunch I'd drove by would be a good place to start. First item on the list: an air conditioning. I wasn't used to such heat and if I didn't want to start living in the shower cubicle under the cool spray, then I'd have to find a solution. Cooling charms could only be reapplied so many times in a single day.

By the time I got back home from my shopping, my car was filled with furniture, linens, cleaning products and food to last me a week. The jet lag had finally settled in and didn't help my growing nervousness. But I did my best to ignore how sleepy I felt from the long day I'd had so far, because I hadn't even seen the end of it. Getting settled was after all nothing compared to paying my first visit to the vampire bar called Fangtasia, in Shreveport. The pun about the fangs wasn't lost on me.

Yet, I wondered what kind of person would call their bar this way.

Apparently, Eric Northman did. At least, he'd kept his sense of humor after being turned.

Mr. Northman and I exchanged many emails before he even agreed to a meeting. There was no point for me to travel hundred of miles to be denied pursuing my research, after all. Of course, it was common knowledge that vampires, in general, didn't mix well with any other supernatural being, werewolves and witches ranking at the top of their enemies' list, I was therefore glad not to belong to the more common group practicing Wicca. Thankfully, I didn't have to go into too much details about what kind of magic I used, since Mr. Northman knew already. He told me he had connections in our world, therefore he was reassured that I was indeed telling the truth. I wasn't that hard to track down either, every other week my name would find itself plastered all over the newspapers. However, considering how secretive our ministry was about our existence, this Mr. Northman was either extremely well-connected or was very old and had encountered our kind at some point in time. Or he was both.

I was curious in finding out the answer, but considering how tightly vampires guarded their secrets, I never dared asking.

He would probably only have ignored my question, anyway.

Mr. Northman might have been kind enough to invite me to discuss my project, but he didn't appear to be ecstatic about my presence in his area, either. I would have to thread carefully in order not to lose his support.

No matter how reticent the first vampire that I would be meeting was, I was still looking forward to properly meeting with the Sheriff of Area 5 tonight. I didn't know what to expect which was at once thrilling and frightening. There wasn't that many accounts of meetings between vampires and our kind in journals or books. I'd thoroughly researched the Hogwarts' and the Ministry's library for any scrap of information relevant to my meeting and came up empty handed. Yes, there'd been mentions of sightings and encounters with them during the 1900s, but besides the usual warnings regarding glamouring and draining, there wasn't that much for me to go on.

I was especially anxious about whether I would be quick enough to use my magical abilities to protect me.

Not knowing whether it would be sufficient or not was certainly not reassuring. Even though Mr. Northman had assured me that no harm would come to me, since I was meeting with the Sheriff, that didn't mean that _he_ couldn't be a threat either. I had to take my chances, but I didn't have to be stupid. I would make sure to wear silver jewelry, just in case, and to keep a silver chain in my purse.

My wand would be hidden away on a upholster on my upper thigh. It was always easier to reach if it was hidden in a shirt sleeve, but since I would be conducting most of my meetings in a vampire bar, I had to dress the part. Ginny and I had went shopping specifically for such occasions where I'd discovered the wonders of club dresses. And really, dresses was only an euphemism for the tiny pieces of cloth that I'd seen on display. If Ginny thought that I'd be exposing myself to everyone, vampires no less, in such scantily clad outfits, then she had another thing coming. I didn't want to have the word "bait" plastered over my forehead.

It took a while and many shopping trips, but we eventually found what we were both looking for. Ginny convinced me that if I wanted to blend in as much as possible and gather the information I was looking for, I would have to adapt to the environment. There was no other choice.

Short black dresses, it would have to be.

Miles away from the modest floor length gown I'd worn at the Yule Ball.

Ron would've probably burst an artery if he'd seen me in my new work uniform.

By the time I'd unpacked everything and gave the bedroom and bathroom a thorough cleaning, it was already close to sun down. I decided to review one last time my notes for tonight's meeting before jumping in the shower. God knows I was badly in need of one, I couldn't take much longer all that mix of heat and sweat sticking to my skin.

I couldn't remember the last time in my life I'd pampered myself that much for an evening. Following the end of the war, I'd only put that much effort into dressing up for funerals. Celebrations were a much quieter affair, usually consisting in an evening spent eating delicious food and drinking Butterbeers in the Weasley's courtyard surrounded by all my closest friends. Tonight's evening preparations therefore required that much more effort, sneakers and a hoodie sadly wouldn't do.

But if Mr. Northman expected to see a war heroine dressed as a barbie doll to walk through the door, he would be sadly mistaken.

I'd probably be wobbling in my high heels through his front door instead.

As always, whenever you are impatiently waiting for something to happen, it always takes forever to occur. While whenever you are waiting as much as dreading for something to happen, it always occurs far sooner than you'd like it to be. Tonight's events were no different.

I soon realized that there was no more time to waste, since the stroke of midnight was soon upon me. And I hadn't even reached Shreveport yet. It was time to go, the Sheriff would be waiting for me. I wasn't inclined to infuriate him on my tardiness on our very first meeting, god knows what would happen.

Minutes later, I was entering the parking lot of the renown vampire club Fangtasia where I would finally step foot in the vampire world and from there on, there was no going back. Although everything was in order, I was on time and ready to meet with the person who would be my liaison in the vampire community, I was still anxious. Breathing heavily with clammy hands clutching the steering wheel. Had I made the right decision in coming here? Or was it just an incredibly stupid one? I would be meeting vampires, for heaven's sake.

They weren't house elves you could knit a hat for.

They were bloodthirsty beings that would stop at nothing to rip your throat out.

But I needed this. For the first time in months, I wasn't worrying about all the loved ones I'd lost in the war. Feeling like an empty shell without them. I was nervous, but excited at the same time. It resembled the kind of feeling I always felt whenever Harry, Ron and I were breaking the rules trying to save the world. It was exhilarating not knowing the answers for once. Not knowing what would happen in the next minutes or hours. I only had to trust in my own magical abilities and pray that I wouldn't meet any young senseless vampires that couldn't be talked out of draining me. Or worse, snapping my neck in the blink of an eye. Hopefully, I would reach Mr. Northman's office before such a thing happened. I couldn't bear thinking otherwise.

So I rested my head on the steering wheel for a few seconds, breathing in the fresh air from the open window.

I'd promised myself that I wouldn't enter the bar a nervous wreck.

I couldn't worry about my own peace of mind while also scanning my surroundings. That was just calling for trouble.

When I finally felt that I was as calm as I'd ever be in such a situation, I stepped out of the car and walked towards the entrance. There, I stood in line behind two other girls being carted by a tall woman dressed in leather. At first glance, it didn't even look like clothes, more as if the outfit had been painted on her skin.

I had to make a conscious effort not to let my real thoughts show. Better to act as if the whole thing was normal for me.

Going out clubbing in vampire bars? Sure thing, every Friday night.

My turn came sooner than I would've liked, so I carefully approached the woman doing the bouncer duties. Before I could even show her my driver's license, she cocked her head to the side, studying me, and told me, "Well, aren't you a treat Miss Granger."

I sticked out my hand to shake hers, out of politeness, but I guess that wasn't standard procedure because she merely looked at it with distaste. Vampires didn't shake hands. Good to know.

She kept looking at me in silence. Appraising me. I didn't know what to do, but staying immobile didn't sound like such a bad idea. So I did, anxiously waiting for her to do something. Anything.

"Welcome to Fangtasia, Miss Granger. My name is Pam." She told me with a patronizing smile. "Eric has been waiting for you. You should be able to find him inside." And then she let me walk pass her with no further comment.

I quickly entered Fangtasia, preferring not to linger too long with her outside in the empty parking lot. She was making me tense just standing next to her.

I'd try my luck inside the building.

Fangtasia was certainly living up to its name upon first sight. Blood red color was covering the walls and tall leather chairs spread around round tables were scattered all over the floor. And that's not to mention the two small stages for dancers. Vampires, from the looks of it. They were moving too fast for me to catch their every move. The music was blaring through the speakers, making it hard to think, let alone ask anyone for help in directing me towards this Eric Northman. The club was packed and all I could see in front of me were people either drinking at the bar or grinding into each other on the dance floor. I hoped I wouldn't be asked to participate in either before the night ended. I didn't fancy getting that close so quickly to a complete stranger and drinking Butterbeer was certainly nothing compared to vodka or tequila. I needed all my wits about me if I wanted to convince the Sheriff to participate in my weekly columns.

The entire floor was a gigantic mass of moving bodies, making it harder for me to find the vampire I was looking for. But my hopes soared of finding him when I looked up from the crowd. There was only one person in the bar that was doing very little compared to everyone else. While most people were too busy dancing, drinking, kissing each other or doing a combination of those activities, a tall blonde man was sitting on a large golden throne with a bored expression on his face.

He had short slicked back hair and was dressed all in black, emphasizing that much more his pale skin. He was wearing a tank top underneath an embroidered leather jacket while his obviously long legs were spread out before him, clad in black pants. I would surely look minuscule next to him. His arms were resting over the armrest and if it had not been for his fingers tapping the red upholstery at intervals, I would've believed him to be a marble statue.

This had to be Eric Northman.

And he knew I'd arrived, because as soon as I spotted him, he'd immediately turned his attention in my direction. But he hadn't been the only one. I was soon accosted by someone else before I could even walk towards him. A man with long brown hair wearing an open leather vest over his bare chest was blocking my path.

"Hey there doll, fancy a drink?" He said to me, clicking his fangs out and giving me a devilish smile.

My heartbeat quickly skyrocketed, but I replied simply, "No thank you, I'm not interested."

And I left him there.

I had business to conduct and I didn't need any distractions. But by the time I stepped away from the first vampire who'd bared his fangs at me, I soon realized that here again I was given far more attention than I ever wanted to. The whole club wasn't staring, because there were still many people mindlessly dancing the night away or drunkenly kissing whoever they wanted, but a couple of them standing on the edge of the crowd were following me with their eyes.

I didn't know if I had to be scared already or not.

I hurried my pace towards the stage and surreptitiously slipped my hand closer to my thigh, just in case any of them dared to get any closer.

They would meet my wand first.

I raised my eyes towards the throne and saw that Eric was still sitting proudly, hardly doing anything besides following my progress towards him with interest.

Before reaching him I had to elbow my way through the crowd of girls lasciviously dancing before his very eyes. It was shocking and it certainly made me feel awkward. So I kept my eyes on him, instead. A smirk soon found itself on his face. It wasn't hard to understand what that meant.

He was amused by my obvious discomfort.

Great.

Yes, he was very handsome, even I could recognize such a fact, but there was no need for anyone to drop to their knees in front of him, begging for him to bite them. That part of the vampire culture, I couldn't understand. I waited near the edge of the stage for the last begging girl to leave him before stepping forward. And when I did, I discovered that he already had a tiny smile playing at the edge of his mouth while shamelessly scrutinizing me from head to toe.

My blood boiled.

I wasn't a piece of meat.

And I wouldn't be the one waiting for him to make the introductions. I wanted to get it done, already.

"Hello Mr. Northman, my name is Hermione Granger. I'm here on behalf of the Daily Prophet —"

"I know who you are." He interrupted me before I could go into any more details.

"I welcome you to Fangtasia, Miss. Granger." He replied in a low voice, his eyes piercing into me. "I am glad to finally be meeting you, the British war heroine if it is to be believed."

I didn't pause to think and just answered, "Yes, there was indeed a war and I played my part."

"Very well, too."

"I only did what needed to be done," were the only words I could find.

"Of course. Yet, some would say you were only children fighting in an adult's war."

Who did he take himself for?

I didn't have to justify my actions to him.

But before I could tell him so, he rose from his seat, towering over me even in my high heels and told me that we'd be conducting the meeting in his office, instead. So I unsteadily followed in his wake, the crowd parting like the Red Sea before him. No wander he was so presumptuous, everyone appeared to be treating him like royalty around here.

More girls tried to catch his attention along the way, while I was sent death glares.

I wouldn't be making any new friends in this place, that's for sure.

We exited the bar area and soon reached a big black door. His office, I thought. Eric entered and after I did, he closed it behind me. My heartbeat was again racing and I crossed my fingers that I hadn't misjudged the whole situation. Handed myself on a silver plate, so to speak.

I reached for the edge of my dress.

And Eric was upon me, towering over me in an instant and grasping my wrists, preventing any further movement.

"Hermione, there's no need for whatever you're thinking." He whispered in my ear.

My eyes were nevertheless set on his face, expecting at any minute his fangs to pop out.

But they never did.

"How do I know that? How can I be assured that you won't harm me?"

He held my hands a few more seconds, then released me and slowly backed away towards his desk. Showing me that he meant no harm.

"Let's have our meeting, shall we?"

I kept my eyes trained on him, unblinking, and slowly approached the chair he offered me. Although it felt heavenly to just sit and relax my aching feet, my back was ramrod straight and I'm sure if Harry would've seen me he would've said that I had my no-nonsense face. I maybe wasn't a six foot four tall vampire, but I was one of the brightest witch of my age and I wouldn't let anyone intimidate me.

I watched Eric settle in his black leather chair, lean back and say, "So, Hermione I understand what I can do for you. What will you give me in exchange?"

A deal. He wanted a deal.

Merlin, one step through the door and we're already talking bargains. Well, hello complications.

And if the smirk plastered over Eric's face was any indication as he stared at my poorly hidden confusion, he knew he'd won the first round. But I'd always loved a good riddle and he was the embodiment of such a thing as my brown eyes clashed with his blue eyes in wonder.

* * *

**Comments are always better than cupcakes, so leave me some.**


End file.
